


The Big Bang Burger Blaster

by smallpudge



Category: Persona 5
Genre: ...semi-realistic reactions to unrealistic wg?, Food Kink, Other, Stuffing, Unrealistic Weight Gain, Weight Gain, a little bit of public humiliation, doctor's exam, there may be a pairing tagged later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17992976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallpudge/pseuds/smallpudge
Summary: There's a new employee at Big Bang Burger, and a new milkshake machine too.  When the machine breaks and starts spilling milkshake, Akira only means to take a little bit as a freebie, since it would go to waste otherwise...But there's something strange about Big Bang Burger's newest menu item, and he ends up getting much, much more than he expected.





	1. Chapter 1

Akira picked up a job at Big Bang Burger solely to pass the time while Futaba was sleeping off the exhaustion from her palace.  The two shifts in the three days it took her to wake up convinced him that fast food jobs just sucked.  First the beef bowl restaurant, now here–the managers just loved to save on costs by keeping their restaurants ridiculously short-staffed.  Big Bang Burger was a corporate chain, so maybe the manager’s hands were tied by policy there, but by the end of the second shift of being yelled at for not being able to fill four orders at once, Akira no longer felt so charitable.  He was done.  Done.  Never picking up another shift again.  Futaba was awake anyway, and he along with the other Phantom Thieves were helping her relearn socialization.

But then, the day after they took Futaba to Mementos for the first time, he got a text from the Big Bang Burger manager.  'Kurusu, you need to come in.  I can’t get anyone else.  I’ll pay you time and a half.’

‘Time and a half’ made Akira instantly perk up, his mind starting to work calculations.  Metaverse weapons and supplies were expensive.  But fast food customers could be just as hostile as shadows sometimes, and things had to be bad if the manager was offering time and a half.  Maybe he’d rather do negotiations in Mementos.

…He could do negotiations in the real world, too.  'I want 2x pay’ he typed back as response.  If it was double pay, it’d be worth doing no matter how aggravating customers were.  If the counteroffer pissed off the manager, it was no great loss.

His attention was further hooked when he saw dots appearing from his manager’s side.  The manager was actually considering this.  This was big.

'Fine.  Just get here asap.’

Hot damn.  Good thing he hadn’t made plans yet for today.

Big Bang Burger was an absolute madhouse when he got there.  The manager himself was on the till with only one other employee there–apparently two employees, including the girl who’d trained Akira, had stormed out, prompting the flurry of frantic texts that led to him.  The restaurant was packed and the line was backed.  Customers were angry, and there was yelling, and yet, none of them were storming out.  There was a gleaming new machine behind the counter and a new item on the menu: the “Big Bang Burger Blaster”, available in vanilla or chocolate.  The restaurant chain was doing milkshakes now.  And  _everyone_  wanted one.  Or two.  Or three.

“People are acting weird,” the other employee whispered to him as she juggled filling four cups with frothy milkshake.  "Everyone who gets a milkshake raves about how good it is and almost all of them order another after they’re done.  And the manager was very firm that none of the employees should purchase any even on breaks.  He said it’s to make sure there’s enough for customers, and maybe that’d make sense, but–“  She raised her voice as she brought the four milkshakes, now nestled in a cup tray, to the service counter.  "Here you are, sir!” she said with a beaming smile.  Turning back to Akira, she dropped back into a whisper.  "God, I’m not even sure he was ordering for a group.  This is weird, isn’t it?“

Akira gave her a nod, focused on cooking the meat in front of him, lesser patties that were not destined to be part of a Big Bang Burger challenge.  There were still regular customers in the fast food joint, after all.  But they seemed to be outnumbered by the customers who had come or were staying solely for the milkshake.  Any customers who got a milkshake lingered for a long time, nursing second or third milkshakes–even fourth or fifth in some cases, those people leaving groaning and bloated.  Akira had to hastily avert his eyes when he noticed a cute, familiar-seeming girl (a third-year at Shujin, he thought) trying and failing to tug her shirt back down to cover her rounded belly as she hiccuped helplessly, still sipping at her milkshake whenever she could.

"She’s right, this is pretty strange,” Morgana whispered when Akira went to the back of the kitchen to get more supplies from the freezer.  The not-cat was staying in Akira’s schoolbag to avoid suspicion, but his ears were swiveled toward the front, eagerly listening in on the orders and customer interactions.  "Can a milkshake really be that good?  …I kind of want one…“

"It’s not good for you,” Akira told him in an undertone.

“Are you saying that because I’m a cat?  Because I’m not!”

Akira only shook his head, heading back up to the front with cheese and hamburger patties.  Privately, though, he felt the same curiosity.   The way customers were clamoring over the milkshake, there had to be something unusual about it.  He wanted to try it.  His shift was ending in a half hour; he’d buy a Blaster on his way out.  Maybe give Morgana a little.  The not-cat had eaten a whole onion before, and those were supposed to be bad for cats, so he had a point.  Even if his body was cat-like at the moment, his digestion clearly wasn’t.  A bit of milkshake couldn’t be that terrible.

But Akira didn’t get to buy a Blaster, because the replacement didn’t come.  No one was coming.  Perhaps the morning shift had warned them of the madness.  The manager begged both of the employees he had to stay until midnight, when the third shift  _should_  arrive and it would usually be dead in the restaurant anyway.  By now, Akira was in full Joker mode.  Hostile customers and multiple meltdowns over milkshakes of all things were nothing.  Tired feet could be ignored.  His stomach, growling from lack of a break to eat anything at all, could take a backseat.  He just needed ten seconds to let Morgana slip out the back so the not-cat could stretch his legs, and then he could turn his attention to what really mattered.  What mattered was that his manager was desperate, at the mercy of him and his fellow employee because he  _needed_  them unless he wanted to face the chaos alone, and if Akira played this negotiation right, there was a lot of yen to be had.

Yuri–that was the girl’s name–gave him a high-five after they’d gotten the manager to agree to two and a half times pay for both of them for the rest of the night.  She was no longer just his coworker; after helping him with negotiation, she was now a coconspirator.  A confidant.

(Sae failed to ask about Yuri during the interrogation.  Sae never considered that the Phantom Thieves might have accomplices in extorting the bosses at their part-time jobs.  Or maybe she simply considered that unionization, an act which was completely legal and aboveboard, even if Akira worked pay negotiations with the same aggression he used to hold shadows at gunpoint.)

The rest of the shift went by in a blur; Yuri and Akira were now fully in sync, a well-oiled machine that flipped burgers, shoveled fries, and pumped out dozens and dozens of milkshakes to glassy-eyed customers.  It wasn’t until 11 pm that things finally began to slow down.  No new customers had come in during the last five minutes, and nearly all the earlier customers had guzzled enough to be sated, stumbling out the door with full bellies and hastily adjusted waistbands.  Yuri was given the okay to go home.  Akira watched carefully to make sure the manager gave her the full promised pay.  She looked happy with the amount, but even more delighted to just leave, and waved a cheerful goodbye to Akira, who gave her a small smile in return.

At 11:15 pm, the milkshake machine broke.  It was brand new, but it had been used so often in one day that perhaps there was some legitimate wear and tear, or maybe Akira had pulled the wrong lever, as no one had actually shown him how to use it.  With no time to be trained, he’d simply gone by what he’d seen Yuri do.  Whatever the reason, it was broken, and nearly every pair of eyes in the restaurant looked at the free-flowing milkshake with despair, albeit for different reasons.

The manager despaired for the loss of profits; he’d endured so much from customers that day without even the camaraderie Yuri and Akira had managed to form, and the milkshake sales had been promising, but now the product was spilling out.  The few customers despaired for the loss of milkshake, especially as the manager promptly declared the open-24/7 restaurant closed until the midnight shift arrived to handle things.  They were somewhat mollified when he offered coupons good through the next month.

Akira was the only one who didn’t despair.  When his manager told him to clean up the mess so he could take the cash from the till to the safe, he saw an opportunity.  The milkshake was simply spilling out and would be wasted anyway, so it wouldn’t affect anyone if he simply took a little…

Akira busied himself mopping the milkshake that had already spilled on the floor and placing–then replacing–cups under the flowing nozzle to catch the still-flowing milkshake as he watched his manager.  The minute the man went into the back, Akira ducked his head under the milkshake machine, letting the liquid fall into his mouth.

The moan that came out of him as his mouth filled with creamy chocolate startled him, and he hastily pulled back, glancing to the side to make sure the office door was closed.  He hadn’t been able to help making the noise.  Big Bang Burger had good food for its prices, but at the end of the day you were still fully aware that you were eating at a fast food joint, not anywhere upscale.  But this milkshake was just…perfection, and he went back to drinking it.  Rich and thick and kept at a cold temperature that was so satisfying after the most recent heatwave, the liquid poured into Akira’s mouth, and he eagerly swallowed it down.  He gulped and gulped, falling into a methodic rhythm of taking a break after every other mouthful to breathe.  He was a little surprised at himself; it wasn’t like he was doing a challenge right now.  Then again, he hadn’t eaten in quite a few hours.  This couldn’t exactly be called a dinner, but…he’d just have to eat healthier tomorrow. He gripped the counter with both hands and ducked his head back under, putting his mouth directly on the nozzle, eager to chug the milkshake down.

Glug, glug, breathe.  Glug, glug, breathe.  He must have drank at least the equivalent of a galaxy-size milkshake and a half by now.  Even though he hadn’t eaten before, this should be enough to tide him over–if not make him a little sick, actually.  He liked sweets on occasion, but he only gorged on more savory things like burgers.  But instead he felt like he’d only whetted his appetite.  He wanted to drink more.  He needed to drink more.  Glug, glug, glug.  Two galaxy milkshakes, now.  Glug…

…Breathe.  He needed to breathe.  He gasped when he pulled himself off the nozzle, and as soon as he’d gotten his breath back he was right back on it.

A tiny voice of caution in the back of his head wondered if he should have taken Yuri’s theory of drugs in the milkshake mix more seriously.  It had seemed pretty ridiculous before, and he’d assumed she was joking.  Big Bang Burger was too big a chain to want to risk the shutdown that would surely follow a scandal like that, right?  But maybe.  Just maybe.  She’d been onto something.  Because this wasn’t normal.

The sheer craving for more of the chocolate bliss crushed that warning voice.  When his stomach started to feel full, achingly full, he didn’t stop, instead lifting his right hand off the counter and desperately rubbing his stomach through his uniform as though he could speed the digestion process along and make room for more cold, frothy milkshake.  Weirdly enough, he did feel his stomach softening.  The hard fullness remained, but there was now a layer over that which yielded to probing fingers.  And then puffed out further, letting them sink in.  Akira noted the sensation of the softness, but what it meant didn’t quite register in his head.  He just knew he always had space for at least one more mouthful.  That was good enough for him.  He kept chugging and kneading his belly until he could feel the cold counter pressing against him, at which point he adjusted himself so that his belly could rest atop it.  When his thighs began to rub against each other, he spaced his feet further apart.  When his belt grew constricting enough against his underbelly to feel painful, he hooked a thumb under his waistband and dragged it lower to let more of his gut sit freely above his pants and belt.  No matter what, he didn’t stop letting the machine pump him full of the creamy, delicious dessert.  How many galaxy milkshakes had it been now?  He’d rocketed past paltry numbers like four or six a few minutes ago.  It had to be at least a dozen now.  Probably more.  His stomach had become a gravity well for milkshake to fall into and fill.

“Hey, Akira.  Akira?  Where are you–whoa!”

Ah.  Morgana had managed to sneak back in somehow.  Not too surprising; the little thief was resourceful like that.  Akira grunted.  It was meant to be a “hey”, but the milkshake took priority over proper enunciation.

“What are you doing?” Morgana hissed.  "What is that stuff?  Stop drinking it, you’re getting fat!“

Fat?  That would explain why his belt was cutting into him again.  And why the seat of his pants was so tight that he could feel every seam pressing into his skin along his hips and upper thighs.  He tried to suck in his gut as the buttons of his shirt grew tighter around it, but he could still feel cool air brushing his skin where the fabric was starting to gap, and all along the sides where it had ridden up.  It wasn’t a bad feeling when he already had so much cold milkshake churning inside him.  He just didn’t want to lose a button.

Though if he had to sacrifice a few buttons for this dessert, it really wouldn’t be that bad…

"Akira!”  Morgana must have hopped up to the counter, because Akira started to feel his small head butting against his upper arm, which wobbled in a sleeve that was starting to grow too tight for it.  "Cut it out!  This is weird!“

"Just a little more,” Akira mumbled around the nozzle.

Morgana actually understood him, a testament to how many fights he had had with a groggy Akira over when to wake up.  "A little more?   _A little more?_   I don’t even want to know how much you’ve already had!  Just stop!“  He head-butted Akira’s arm once more, but the boy wasn’t listening.

Fortunately–or unfortunately, if you asked Akira–machines could only hold a finite amount, and the milkshake machine had already seen a lot of use all day.  Akira whined as the mixture turned airy and then started to stutter, suckling at the nozzle as though he could will more liquid to come out, but the machine had run dry.  He finally pulled back, and then he saw what he’d done to himself in guzzling all that milkshake down.  His eyes went wide even as he made sure to lick all the chocolate from his lips.

First, he could feel the extra flesh under his chin, because it pressed against his neck as he looked down.  Then there was his chest, which had grown softer and puffed out the fabric of his shirt just a little.  That was nothing compared to his stomach, though.  The front of it was rounded into a taut, firm ball that strained the buttons on his shirt with how much milkshake he’d drank.  Some of the gaps between buttons were as wide as 500-yen coins, and one took more of an oval shape because he’d already lost the button in the middle and had never noticed.  Soft, gooey lovehandles pushed up the sides of his shirt and exploded over his far-too-tight belt; his hips flared beneath it even more dramatically.  Akira’s head swam a little looking at all of it.  All of him.  He had to be dreaming.

"Ah–manager!” Morgana whispered, bounding off the counter and slinking away.  Akira instinctively straightened and turned toward the door of the office as it opened, biting his lip at how his pants creaked.  He–did not want to talk to the manager.  Not that he’d done anything wrong, since the milkshake would have gone to waste anyway, but the manager was going to have  _questions_ , and he actually had a big question too (“Were YOU aware the milkshakes were drugged?”, because at this point he wouldn’t believe they weren’t), but it would all be very awkward, and he wanted to go home and get his belt off already.

So Akira triggered his Third Eye ability to pick out all the things he needed for a quick getaway.  His bag, with Morgana now inside, gleamed gold.  The thick envelope in the manager’s hand gleamed gold, while the manager himself radiated the red of an encounter Akira would rather avoid.

All the cups Akira had set to catch milkshake gleamed gold, too.  Akira tried to ignore that.  He walked toward the manager at what was meant to be a brisk stride, but his pants were now so restricting that his steps turned jerky as his thighs rubbed past each other, his breath catching at the sheer friction and the realization that, while he hadn’t seen it yet, his ass had to be absolutely huge.

Luckily, his manager seemed too staggered by the sight of him to start on questions.  The man only managed a very bewildered “Kurusu–?!”

“Health emergency, have to go,” Akira excused himself, even as he snatched the envelope out of the man’s hand and thumbed it open to get a quick estimate of the amount.  25,000 yen in one night?  He’d do it again.  Maybe without the part where he might have a legitimate health emergency.  He  _felt_  fine, but how did anyone blimp up like this in a matter of minutes?  Both his hands were full, but he managed to swing an arm through his bag’s shoulder strap and lumbered to the employee exit, silently apologizing to Morgana for the bumpy ride.  He couldn’t seem to find his stride, too aware of his thighs rubbing and chafing inside his pants, his rear filling the seat and then pushing his belt high in the back as it sought to escape.  His center of gravity seemed to slosh from side to side with the bloat of milkshake at each step.  As much as he wanted to get home quickly, he wasn’t used to carrying this much weight.  By the time he’d managed to speed up to his usual, purposeful pace, he was breathing heavily, feeling ready to overheat.  The lingering summer heat and his tight clothes weren’t helping.  He needed something to drink.

He stopped and chugged down the cup of milkshake in his left hand until his stomach relaxed, surging forward and bursting through three more buttons that skittered away on the sidewalk.  Only then did he realize that he shouldn’t be holding any milkshake.  He must have snatched one of the cups as he was leaving, but he’d been trying to ignore those.  "Huh,“ he huffed, staring at the half-empty container.

Morgana’s head popped out of the bag, the not-cat looking at Akira’s exposed gut, the cup in his hand, and then at Akira’s face.  "Did you take even  _more_  of that stuff?”

“Yeah,” Akira said, still dumbfounded that he’d done it without any conscious thought.  "Good drugs.“  Strong, anyway.  But Morgana sounded pissed.  "Did you still want some?”

“Not now I don’t!” Morgana yelled.

Oh, good.  That meant Akira could drain the rest of it without any guilt.  He was fat already; half a cup wasn’t going to make a difference.  And it was so cold and good…  "Should’ve grabbed more.“

"Oh my god.  You’re so hopeless right now.”  Morgana climbed onto his shoulder and pressed a paw into Akira’s now-chubby cheek, directing his head to point at the train station.  "Train.  Home.   _Now._   You can’t get any more milkshake anyway.  The restaurant closed.“

"It’s opening back up at midnight,” Akira pointed out, just to be contrary.  And then he realized: “They still have vanilla."  He hadn’t tried it yet.

Morgana flexed his paw subtly, just enough to unsheathe his claws partway into Akira’s cheek, making it very clear what he would do if Akira turned around to go back to Big Bang Burger.  Akira huffed, but followed Morgana’s direction to the train station.  At that point the not-cat had to drop back into the bag to avoid detection, but his bright blue eyes staring up from the unzipped gap made Akira fully aware he was under surveillance.

Even without Morgana, he would have been watched.  The mustard yellow and ketchup red of the Big Bang Burger uniform was already designed to be eye-catching.  On someone too fat to ever possibly button shut the shirt–if it had still had all its buttons, anyway–it drew stares.  It was a shame Big Bang didn’t sell hot dogs as well, because Akira felt like a smothered bratwurst ready to explode from its casing.  He tried to hold the shirt flaps as closed as possible to minimize his embarrassment, but gave dignity up as a lost cause when, shuffling through the turnstile, he heard a long rip form down the side of his pants, letting the pale flesh of his chunky thigh peek through.  At least there were only a few other commuters who were mostly like him and just wanted to go home.  He’d always known Big Bang Burger was good for growing his guts, but he’d never planned to increase them like this.

Morgana could tell he was starting to flag.  Once the not-cat was satisfied that Akira wasn’t going to trudge back and gorge himself on milkshake again, he started whispering encouragement that they were close to the train for Yongen-Jaya, close to home, that Akira wouldn’t have to stand much longer–there were plenty of seats on the train, but he didn’t trust his pants to survive the movement and didn’t want to keep showing his belly to the world, so he stood in one corner and let Morgana keep track of the passing stops while making a couple texts at the not-cat’s suggestion.  First a text to Dr. Takemi requesting a check-up as soon as suited her schedule.  Then a text to the Phantom Thieves group chat calling for a meeting, because if milkshakes at a fast food restaurant were being drugged, there was at least one person who deserved a calling card.  Probably several.  Akira gave no details in either message.  He didn’t have the first clue how to explain this and felt too tired and embarrassed to dedicate much thought to it.  The sheer thrill of drinking the shake had long passed, and the full feeling in his stomach was no longer satisfying but simply left him feeling overly bloated and heavy.  He tried rubbing his stomach and making light burps to ease the fullness, but it hadn’t done much yet, and he was wary of drawing yet more attention to himself.

It was a joy when they pulled into Yongen-Jaya’s stop, even more when they left the station and Morgana jumped out of Akira’s bag to lighten his load by the little that he could.  "Hey.  Hey!  Almost there,” the not-cat reassured Akira, rubbing against the boy’s leg encouragingly when he paused in walking to catch his breath.

Akira had never been happier to see Leblanc.  Or to be arriving after closing when there were no witnesses.  The instant he’d closed and locked the door behind Morgana, he whipped off his belt, sighing at the sheer relief the action gave him, and sank into the closest booth.

The seat of his pants started tearing the instant he wasn't perfectly upright.  As soon as his butt touched the booth--which was sooner than he expected, the cool vinyl making him jolt--metal clinked and rattled against the wood floor as his button rolled away, his belly sagging down.  He’d been right that his pants wouldn’t survive sitting.  He didn’t even have the emotional capacity left to feel anything about it, or about how his stomach spilled out over his thighs.  He just slumped down on the table, grateful to no longer be standing after a grueling double shift and walking himself and a half home.

“Jeez, you look terrible,” Morgana said.  "I thought you were going to collapse on the street a few times there.“

"Be nice to me, Mona,” Akira grumbled.  "It’s been a long day.“

"I  _was_  nice,” Morgana reminded him.  "But you’re going to get in trouble if Boss finds you sleeping here in the morning.“

"Think Boss is going to have other things to say first when he sees me.”

“…Probably.  Still, it’s not good for you to sleep here.  You should go to bed.”  Morgana didn’t sound totally unsympathetic, though, and he left Akira alone for long enough that the teenager had dozed off when he realized his arm was getting head-butted again.  He got up, making sure to grab his bag and double-checking that he still had his pay envelope, and then slowly climbed the stairs to the attic, finding it strange how he now had to lift his legs against the underside of his gut.

Once upstairs, he peeled off his pants–his thighs had been packed in there nearly as tight as if they’d been vacuum-sealed, and his calves weren’t much better.  It was an exercise in itself to huff and wriggle his way out.  His sleeves were so tight that the seams at the shoulder ripped as he was still working off his pants.  It just cemented even further that he wasn’t going back to any more Big Bang Burger shifts, and Akira carelessly ripped the mustard yellow shirt off and flung it into the trash as he kicked the pants away.  He didn’t even try to find a shirt to sleep in, worried about covering one thing only.  His sleep pants were–also tight.  Even with the drawstring untied, every inch of the waistband was stretched around his hips and butt.  He didn’t think any of his clothes would count as properly fitting at this point, though, and the sleep pants covered his junk, so they would have to do.  He started to sink into his bed.  The first sound of shifting reminded him that Sojiro had been a bit of a cheapskate and given him a bed propped on milk crates, and he made sure to be very careful as he rolled back into the bed and covered himself up with a blanket.

There was no covering up his bloated stomach.  It stood out like a small mountain.  Morgana also stared at it after he’d jumped up to join Akira.  "You look pregnant.  You're huge."

"That’s not how you talk to someone who’s pregnant.”

The not-cat scoffed.  "I know you’re not actually,“ he said, pressing a paw against Akira’s belly curiously.  "It’s really firm.  Does it hurt?  Are you going to be okay until Dr. Takemi can see you?”

Despite everything, Akira smiled a little.  Morgana was slipping a little, letting his worry show.  It was cute.  "Hm,“ Akira considered.  "I might have overate a little.”

“ _I’ll_  say.”

“It’s not too bad.  I’ll survive.”

“Good.”  Morgana placed another paw on Akira’s stomach, and then another, climbing up.

“Wait, Morga-”  He hadn’t expected that Morgana would want to sleep on him, even if it was what Morgana usually did, and the not-cat’s legs poking into his gut had the unexpected effect of finally pushing out the gas he hadn’t been able to release earlier.  His words were cut off by a belch erupting out of him, so loud that it startled Morgana several feet into the air.

Luckily, even not-cats landed on their feet, but now Morgana was staring at him from the floor with eyes blown wide-open, and Akira couldn’t help but laugh through his mortification.  Morgana huffed and stalked over to the couch, apparently choosing that for the night instead.

“Good night, Akira.”

“M–Mona, come on–my stomach feels better now–”

“ _Good night, Akira._ ”

Akira sighed out a final laugh, closing his eyes.  He was going to have…quite the full load tomorrow, dealing with this.  Might as well get the sleep in now.


	2. Chapter 2

Akira’s chest felt heavy as he made his way to Big Bang Burger, but even if it was a little hard to breathe, he persisted and kept walking.  Morgana wasn’t around to stop him from going into the restaurant and up to the counter.  Morgana wasn’t around to stop him from pulling out a 1000 yen bill and ordering a vanilla blaster, carefully collecting the change back in the envelope and sitting at a booth not far from the counter.  Morgana wasn’t around to stop him from taking that first sip of sweet, rich cream, the flavor more nuanced than any fast food milkshake he’d had before–he could taste the hint of vanilla bean–and then uncapping the lid from the cup and chugging it all down.

He hefted himself up from his seat in the booth and used the change from his milkshake order to buy another.  He was so eager to drink it that it didn’t even last him the walk back to the booth.  For his third order, he took out two 1000 yen bills and got a full cup tray that he cradled carefully back to his seat.  Four more milkshakes should be enough to fill him, probably.  In fact, he could feel his belt growing tight as he drained the first of the set.  The hem of his shirt started to rise as the second flowed into him.  By the fourth, he could feel the brush of the restaurant’s air conditioning against his exposed navel.  He was getting fat again.  Fatter again.  And yet, just like the night before, his appetite was insatiable.  He lumbered up to the counter again.  Yuri was cashiering now.  Perfect.  He took out his pay envelope, rested his stomach on the counter, and turned up the charm, even though he could see plain as day that she was shocked by his sudden transformation from thin to thundering.  He could help her get over that.  Weren’t they coconspirators?  Didn’t she want the milkshake gone from the restaurant so the customers would go back to normal?  (Somehow, with incredible grace, Yuri refrained from pointing out that he was currently a customer acting strangely.)  Wouldn’t she like 22,000-odd yen to just… look the other way as the machine broke again, so that he could drink all he wanted?

Somehow, he must have persuaded her, because a moment later Akira found himself at the Big Bang Blaster machine.  It only took a few random pulls and pushes of knobs to get the shake flowing freely again, and this time Akira pulled up a stool for him to sit on before ducking his head below the nozzle.  Unlike last night, he should already be full. And yet, just like before, he was eagerly draining the machine, getting fatter and fatter.  He pawed at his soft stomach as it grew, firming with fullness and then softening with new layers of flab that began to roll over his thighs like melting butter.  Those same thighs were getting bigger themselves, heavier to match the ass that poured off the stool seat.  As the wood began to creak, Akira reluctantly grabbed the counter to try to heave himself up–he didn’t want to break furniture, especially furniture he was still on top of.  But the first half-hearted attempt to lift himself didn’t go anywhere.  His next swallow of the milkshake was done with a frown before he planted his feet more firmly and pushed up–but all he did was rock on the stool, which splintered and then broke when his weight came back down on it.

He went crashing down on the floor and was left blinking in bewilderment at the ceiling.  He was too heavy to get up.  The milkshake continued pouring.  Yuri appeared to clean up the mess in a similar way as he’d done last night, setting a cup under the flowing machine and then mopping around him until the cup filled.  Then she replaced the full cup with an empty one, like he’d done; but instead of setting the full cup aside, she kept it in her hand and knelt down next to Akira with a smile.  "You said you’d take care of the milkshake, didn’t you?  Drink up.“

She pressed the cup to his mouth, and Akira wanted to tell her no, he needed to stop, he was a  _Phantom Thief_ , he couldn’t get this fat and certainly couldn’t get fatter, but he couldn’t say anything without opening his mouth and letting the delicious shake in, his traitorous throat gulping it down as fast as it could while his stomach expanded–

Akira’s eyes flew open as he woke up, his hands frantically patting his chest, stomach–and Morgana, who’d apparently decided he was good enough to sleep on after all during the night, and now batted at one of his hands in retaliation.  "Akira!  What’s gotten into you?!”

“I’m fat!” he shouted at Morgana.

“Yeah, you made a pig of yourself last night!  What, did you forget?  I’m the one with amnesia here!”

He wasn’t any bigger than he’d been going to sleep.

But he’d already become obese.

He was torn between relief and distress, with trepidation trying to compete.  What in the world did a dream like that mean?  "Mona,“ he said.  "What if I said I was going to blow my paycheck on vanilla blasters?”

The not-cat was in his face in an instant.  "Uh, no you’re not,“ Morgana told him very firmly, with a few claws under his chin to emphasize the point.

Akira sighed and patted Morgana on the head.  "Okay, good.”

“Jeez.”  The claws were retracted as Morgana sat back, and Akira tried very hard not to notice how his soft chest cushioned his friend’s small body.  "Were you really thinking about it?  You’re already too big!  How are you going to be a Phantom Thief like this?“  Morgana started to knead the flabby chest underneath him, as if Akira needed it rubbed in how much his body had changed.

"I can still do my part,” Akira protested, but it came out a bit weak.  He’d already been worrying about his size in that dream.  Morgana might have a point.  Though, even so, he needed to stop.  "Morgana, you know humans don’t  _paw at each other_ , right?“

The not-cat froze in his suspiciously cat-like kneading, looking as mortified as one with feline features could.  Had he not realized he was doing it before?  "I–I’m not doing this because I’m–!  You’re just really soft now, okay?  Say, is this what waterbeds feel like?  Or, nyehehe–”

“Nope, now you have to get off me.”

Morgana did listen to him and jumped down to the floor, but he just had to finish his commentary.  "–blubberbeds?“

"Spend all night thinking up that one?”  Akira was not a morning person in general, but this was definitely not the morning for Morgana’s sass.  He made to roll up into a sitting position, having to catch the edge of the mattress with his left hand when he realized he’d underestimated his weight again.  The motion was less than graceful, but he got himself upright and put a hand on his stomach when it wobbled.  It sagged, softer now that it was no longer packed with milkshake, but it didn’t look like it had gotten any smaller.  More like the last of the shake had finished digesting and turning into fat.  He still didn’t know how that worked.  Just what was in those blasters?

He noticed a green light coming from his phone on the floor, signalling a notification.  Morgana was already hovering over the device, swiping at it with one paw.  "Hey, Dr. Takemi messaged back,“ Morgana announced.  The not-cat had figured out Akira’s password after only a handful of times of watching Akira unlock his phone.  Not that Akira tried hard to keep secrets from his constant shadow anyway.  "She says she can see you at 10:30…that’s about an hour away.  Think you can find something to wear before then?”

Akira sighed.  He already was dreading the task.

“Come to think of it, school’s starting again soon…  Does your uniform even fit you anymore?”

“…Guess I’ll see.”  Akira already knew what the answer would be, but he felt compelled to try and see just how bad it was, pulling the uniform off the shelf he’d left it folded on.  At least Morgana knew to be polite and make himself scarce when Akira was changing.

Surprisingly, the white polo of his uniform still fit: at least, he could cram his heavy arms through the short sleeves, stretch out the fabric over his soft chest, then pull at the hem until it nearly covered his belly button.  He would never be allowed into class like this, nor would he want to even leave the attic like this, but he was, technically, wearing the shirt.

He couldn’t claim that much with the uniform pants.  Tight around his calves, they couldn’t be pulled over his thighs at all, no matter how much he tugged and even hopped.  They never would have been able to contain his hips, which still had an angry red line across from his belt digging in the night before.  And he was getting sweaty just from trying.  By the time he kicked the pants away, the polo had already ridden up high on his belly, and he quickly pulled that off as well.

He’d have to ask Makoto about uniforms at the meeting today.  Or if she couldn’t help, Kawakami.  He really couldn’t afford to get into trouble over uniform infractions, of all things.

The uniforms of a college prep school like Shujin were pricy, though…he could already feel a good chunk of his hard-earned yen fluttering away.  When he considered the winter uniform as well–

No.  He was going to fix this well before it was time for winter uniforms.  He just had to see Takemi.  Which meant he had to get dressed, and he would never have thought  _that_  might be his greatest challenge in a day.  He was quickly realizing that the Big Bang uniform had fit him last night–-for a very narrow definition of fit-–only because he’d already been wearing it when he’d… grown.  Not a single pair of his jeans could pull over his thighs.  One pair of his shorts got a little higher only to become painfully constricting, and even they couldn’t pull up completely.

He didn’t have that many clothes to try.  Denial was the main reason it took him ten whole minutes to go back to his sleep pants when it was blatantly clear nothing else fit.  He shimmied back into them, cringing that even they were reluctant to pull back up over his butt and were stuffed full by the round cheeks.  He was going to look like a slob no matter what he did.  People would think he was an absolute pig, which…considering how he got this way, perhaps wasn’t entirely off the mark.  Akira scowled, framing his belly with both hands and shaking it.  Had he really drank that much milkshake?!

…Yeah, from what he remembered, he totally had.

After the slow agonizing failure of finding pants, Akira took to finding a shirt with grim efficiency.  He took his least favorite t-shirt, grabbed his scissors from the crafting desk, and cut until it was a raggedy tank top so that he at least wouldn’t have to put up with tight sleeves.  Then he pulled it on over his head and plucked on the hem until only the underside of his belly and his love handles were showing.

Morgana gave him a very critical expression after he was given the okay to come see.  "Akira–“

"Don’t start.”

“–This isn’t a look suitable for a gentleman.”

Akira dragged his hands over his face, hating how the chub of his cheeks squished down with them.

“Why did you drink all that milkshake?!”

As if he wasn’t asking himself the same thing.  "Morgana, I’m pretty sure it was drugged.  Let’s just go.“

After Morgana had hopped into his bag, Akira picked it up and slung it over his shoulder.  He took a deep breath before charging down the stairs.  Not for the physical activity–going down was a lot easier than going up.  But because he knew–

"Kid, would you take it easy?  You’ll bother customers thundering down the stairs like an elephant.”

–At this time of day, Sojiro was bound to be in the cafe, of course.  Though there weren’t actually any customers to have been bothered.  The middle-aged man was turned away for the moment, hovering over simmering curry, and Akira wondered if he’d be lucky enough to get out of the cafe without him turning around.  Of course, Sojiro was going to find out about his…incident… eventually, but right now, Akira would prefer to see Takemi first.  The teenager took a deep breath, hoping his voice would give nothing away.  "Right, sorry.“

Sojiro sighed.  "Honestly… where’s the fire, anyway?”

“I’m headed to the clinic.”  Akira answered quickly, worried that any hesitation would make Sojiro look.  He realized as soon as the word ‘clinic’ was out his mouth that the truth might make Sojiro look anyway.

“The clinic?  You sick?”

Time to make a quiet break for the door.  "It’s nothing, just a check-up–“

Sojiro’s ladle splashed and clattered in the pot.  "KID, WHAT IN THE WORLD?!”

Akira cringed and turned slowly.  The man’s eyes were bulging, his mouth fallen open.  But before Akira could even offer some sort of excuse, Sojiro regathered his composure, sighed–-and held up a hand to silence anything Akira might have to say.

“No.  You know what?  I don’t even want to know.”  And then his guardian for the year turned back to his curry.

Akira’s mouth snapped shut with a click.  So he’d gotten bizarrely fat overnight, might have something wrong with him, and Sojiro didn’t want to know?  Akira hadn’t wanted Sojiro to throw a fit or fuss when he had to get over to Dr. Takemi’s, but the complete brushoff stung.  He’d thought the old man cared, in his own gruff way.  Akira felt a heat rising in his cheeks.  "I’m a growing boy,“ he tossed out sarcastically, which only got an exasperated huff from Sojiro as he waved him away.

”…That was odd,“ Morgana said after Akira had exited Leblanc, only narrowly avoiding slamming the door.  "I thought Boss would be…well, worried.”

“Guess that makes fools of both of us.”

“…Akira, are you upset?”

“ _No._ ”  He was mad, which was entirely different.

“Riiiight.  Well, let’s not keep Dr. Takemi waiting.”

At least he was used to people staring at him by now, because people were definitely staring at him as he crossed the narrow streets between Cafe Leblanc and Dr. Takemi’s clinic.  Though, at school they’d stared at him like he might pull out a knife and stab someone.  The looks he was getting now were pretty brazen, people finding him more outrageous than threatening.  Akira caught himself the first time he started glaring back and lowered his gaze to the street with a huff and a yank at the hem of his shirt-turned-tank-top, trying in vain to cover his belly.

He was huffing again when he ducked into the clinic, but by then it was because he was feeling a bit tired, which irritated him.  Today there was no long work shift to blame exhaustion on.  It hadn’t been a long walk, and he was fat, but not  _that_  fat.  Maybe the milkshake had done something else to him?

Dr. Takemi was sitting behind the counter as usual.  Her kohl-rimmed eyes flicked up to him and then promptly back down to the magazine lying open on her crossed legs.  No greeting.  No…nothing.

Akira raised an eyebrow.  The total non-reaction was even more baffling after how dramatically Sojiro had responded.  "Dr. Takemi?“

"Sorry, but could you take a seat?  I accept walk-ins, but a patient with an appointment should be arriving soon.”

Ah.  She hadn’t recognized him.  That was the only explanation for why she was showing what little customer service she could muster.  "Do you have another guinea pig now?  I’m hurt.“

That got a snort from her, and this time she actually looked up with a small smirk.  Looked past him on both sides, like he was blocking her view.  Finally, she looked him in the face.

Her brown eyes shot wide open, the magazine sliding off her legs as she stood from the chair.  For a minute it looked like she was going to say something, but instead she simply came around the counter, walked behind Akira, and–

The teenager stiffened when she lifted the back of his shirt, both startled and mortified.  She dropped it in the next second.  "What in the world did you get into, guinea pig?” she asked.  "Go in back.  I need to examine you.“

"Thanks for not doing it out here,” he muttered, clutching the hem of his top and the waistband of his pants with each hand as insurance against her disrobing him.  His heart was beating too quickly as he walked into the examination room and set down the bag holding Morgana.

Dr. Takemi locked the door after she entered and stared at him intensely.  "Let me just make sure.  You’re Akira?“

Ouch.  Did he look that little like his normal self?  "Is it that hard to believe?”

“ _Yes,_ ” she said firmly.  "The only reason I’m willing to believe you are is because of the scar on your back.“

”…I have a scar?“  That was news to him.  He wondered if he could see it–-nope, all he saw was how round his shoulders were.

Takemi rolled her eyes.  "Left of the small of your back, faded enough that I’d guess you got it in your early childhood, and not important right now.  This,” she gestured from Akira’s head down to his toes, “may be important as a medical emergency, except everything I know tells me it should be completely impossible.  What happened?”

“You might want to tell your patients to avoid Big Bang Burger.”

Takemi scoffed.  "You know I already do, but  _some patients_  don’t listen.  So, what are you saying?  That this was the cost of achieving Captain Rank?“

Ah, yeah.  He’d told her about taking the challenges, once. She’d been less than thrilled about it and had told him to at least not do them on days before he helped her out with clinical trials, since she suspected an overtaxed digestive system would throw off results.  "Actually, it’s something new on the menu.”

He sat down on the examination table-–it felt good to take the weight off his feet-–and told her about the milkshakes.  About the customers’ behavior in the restaurant, and his own surreal experience with the machine after the unplanned closing.  He got thrown off from his account a few times by her performing her examination.  He’d expected the order to take off his shirt and the cold press of her stethoscope on his flabby chest as she measured his heart rate.  Didn’t quite expect her free hand to poke his plump belly and then pinch the roll on his side between her thumb and finger.  He would never admit it, but in that moment he was so surprised that he yelped.  "Dr. Takemi–!“

He jolted to his left, away from her prodding fingers, and then froze up again as he heard a few stitches in his pants pop on that side.  Takemi pulled away from him with a small frown.  "Calm down.  I’m just checking that it’s actually fat, and not, say, bloating, or some sort of growth.”  She gave him a few more pokes and prods, most directed at various angles to his rotund stomach, though she did also pat his soft chest and squeeze one arm and one thigh.  

Akira was burning red by the time she was done touching him.  Being touched all over by a woman as attractive as Dr. Takemi…in other circumstances, it might have been a hot experience.  Like this?  It was downright humiliating.  "Well?“

"Hm…it certainly feels like normal fat.”

“I could have told you that.”

“Ask me for an examination, guinea pig, you get an examination,” she told him.  But her face softened as she looked at his, still cast downward.  "Sorry.  I’ll give you more warning.“  She lifted her stethoscope.  "I’m going to use this to listen to your stomach and intestines.  All right?”

“Wait–for what?”  He’d never had a doctor do that before.

“To listen for anything unusual going on in your digestive system.  I’d usually do it for a patient complaining of stomach pain.  Seems relevant in the case of 'drank mystery milkshake, blew up like a balloon’.”  She waited until he nodded and then leaned down, pushing the cold stethoscope into the fat that rolled under out under his belly button in his seated position.  "This was just last night, correct?  Whatever you ate or drank should still be working its way through you, and I’d imagine that much milkshake would cause a lot of turmoil.“

"Uh…”  She had a point.  He was not going to enjoy his next trip to the bathroom, huh?

“Don’t worry.  I actually don’t hear anything in particular.  Almost like you didn’t eat at all last night.  Which is strange, given what you told me, but then, everything you told me is strange.  For example–”  She looked up at him.  "You didn’t notice any weight gain in any of the customers, did you?“

"No.”

“I figured not.  I’d hope my little…”  She eyed his belly, and Akira automatically tried to suck it in, to his embarrassment.  While his stomach did shrink a little, so much still spilled over his waistband.  "…plump guinea pig is bright enough not to drink something instantly fattening people.  Though behavioral changes honestly should have been a warning sign too…“

Akira fidgeted, tapping his glasses back up his nose–even those seemed to rest differently on his face.  "I figured a taste wouldn’t hurt.”

Takemi hummed.  "You got quite a bit more than a taste.“

”…Wasn’t planned.  Is there anything you can give me to help me… y'know.  Lose this?“

She used her clipboard to rap him lightly on the head.  "No.”  His mouth fell open, and the clipboard moved under his chin to close his round mouth shut.  "Don’t argue with me. I wouldn’t give you  _anything_  right now, when I don’t know what you got drugged with or how much is still in your system, and I don’t have any interest in developing weight loss medication to begin with.  Besides, most weight loss drugs can have side effects, without even getting into the potential interactions with the drugs you already use from me.  You shouldn’t  _need_  a drug, Akira.  Steer clear of Big Bang Burger, eat your normal diet–-minus fast food-–and go about your normal routine.  If all it was was the milkshake, you should slim back down easily enough.  It just won’t be overnight.“

"But I don’t have time to just lose weight normally–”  Weren’t people only supposed to lose 1kg a week on a diet?  All this bulk was going to interfere with Phantom Thief work so much.  He couldn’t even imagine how he’d even get through ventilation shafts.  And fighting?

“I told you,” Takemi interrupted.  "I’m not arguing this with you.“  She tapped her clipboard against herself as she eyed him.  "You know what?  I’ll give you a choice.  I could prescribe you a weight loss drug.  Not immediately, but it should be safe enough in a few days.  But if I do, I won’t sell you any other medicine.  Drug interactions are not to be taken lightly.  Your call.”

Akira grimaced.  That really wasn’t a choice at all–-the medicine he bought from her was for all the Phantom Thieves to use in the Metaverse.  There was no contest between the option of him being sidelined or the team not being able to heal.  But he still hated the idea of being sidelined.  "But-–I’m not just bigger, I got tired only walking here–“  Maybe she could give him some other medicine that would help.

"Akira.”  Takemi’s look was a bit pitying, but then she jerked her head at the scale in the corner.  "Get on so I can weigh you.  Hard numbers might help you understand why you’re getting tired so quickly.“

”…I think I’d rather live in ignorance.“

Okay, that made any sympathy vanish pretty quick.  "Play dumb about this, and you might just stay a big pig instead of a cute little guinea pig.  On the scale.”

Akira huffed as he shuffled off the exam table, a little slow to make sure he didn’t tear any more seams on his pants.  They were the only pants that actually fit, so he needed to make sure they lasted.  And also, he just wasn’t eager to see the hard numbers.

But too soon he was standing on the scale while Tae tapped the indicator right, right, and further right on the poise bar.  The bottom of the poise bar was divided into marks of 10 kilograms each, and he winced as she tapped it past the 60 it had always landed on before to 70, 80, 90…

“You  _can_  keep your eyes closed, but I’m going to tell you anyway.”

He opened them to see the lower bar resting squarely on 100.

That the upper bar had only needed to be tapped to “1”–-for a total of 101 kilograms–-was cold comfort.

“You weighed 61 kg last time I weighed you.  Roughly 10% body fat by my estimates.  Normal and healthy for a teenage boy.  But now, you’re carrying an extra 40 kg on you, and given how you gained it and how flabby you are, I’d assume it’s all fat.  That would put you around 45% body fat.   _Anyone_  would be tiring quickly.  I know you’re active, but I doubt you made a habit of carrying around anything that heavy.”  She hummed thoughtfully.  "That reminds me.  I told you to go about your normal routine, but I have noticed you get bruises from time to time, so I assume your…work…is sometimes strenuous.  Light exercise like walking or swimming is fine, but you need to hold off on anything too taxing until you’ve lost some of this.“

Akira pressed his mouth shut, not trusting himself to make a response.  He knew Takemi meant well, and she probably knew best, but all the same, there was no way he was waiting that long to jump back in the Metaverse.  But he kept quiet and let Takemi finish examining him, the last thing she did being to draw blood from him to see if a lab technician she knew could do her a favor and figure out just what ‘special ingredient’ had been in the milkshake.

She offered to take other measurements while he was in her office, for clothing, since as she said it was obvious he needed new clothes and she had a tape measure lying around.  Maybe it would have been smarter to say yes, because he knew he needed new clothes too–he was in his pajama pants and even they were too tight–but he’d had quite enough of being poked and prodded for the day and turned that down as politely as he could.

Instead, he texted Ann as he left the clinic, heading back to Leblanc.

 **Akira:**   Do you still have all those clothes you layered on when you were stalling Yusuke?

 **Ann:**   Yeah, he managed to get those back to me afterward.  I feel a little bad he went to the trouble, some of them are really stretched out.  I need to toss them.  Why?

 **Akira:**  Don’t toss them.  Bring them to the meeting today, please.

Ann had worn a ridiculous number of layers that day, enough that she had looked like a puffed out marshmallow.  He felt pretty sure she’d been even rounder than he was, considering her arms had stuck out at the sides in that ensemble–he wasn’t so heavy for that, at least.  So the biggest layers should fit him.

Sojiro looked up from his sole customer when Akira reentered the cafe.  The customer was only an occasional one, but he seemed to recognize Akira enough to be astonished; Sojiro just clucked his tongue.  "So, what’s the good doc say?  Are we putting you on a diet?”

Wait.  Was Sojiro going to stop giving him curry for breakfast because he’d gotten fat?  "Yep,“ Akira blurted out.  "All-curry diet.  Spices are good for you.”

Sojiro snorted, but he was smiling a little, so he probably wasn’t going to cut off the breakfasts.  Probably.  "Go on, get upstairs.“

Akira couldn’t help a second glance back at Sojiro as he headed upstairs.  He had no idea what was up with his guardian right now.  Did he just not care?  Or…

"I don’t get it,” Morgana murmured, cautiously poking his head out once they were halfway up the stairs and out of the customer’s sight.  "Is he treating you like this because you’re fat?“

"Nah,” Futaba called, giving both boy and cat a start.  The orange-haired girl, the newest member of the Phantom Thieves and Sojiro’s adopted daughter, was sitting hunched over her laptop on Akira’s bed.  "He thinks you’re playing some kind of prank.  Asked me if I was the one to get you the fat suit.  Just because I have that doll head…“

Oh.  That did explain how cavalier Sojiro was acting about the whole thing.  He never really had gotten that close a look at Akira, since he was behind the counter both times.  Even Takemi’s first reaction hadn’t been to acknowledge the weight gain–she’d thought he was someone else entirely.  Still, Akira found himself annoyed.  "That’s a stupid assumption to make,” he huffed.

“I don’t know, seems reasonable enough to me,” Futaba answered nonchalantly as she tapped away at her keyboard.  "I wouldn’t have thought you could gain 40 kg overnight either.“

"She has a point,” Morgana told him, jumping out from the bag to the table once they’d reached the top of the stairs.

Akira paused for a moment, getting his breath back.  Her words had set his thoughts on another track.  "Futaba.  How do you know how much I gained?“  She hadn’t even looked at him yet to make an good guess.  "I thought you only had Leblanc bugged.”  From what he knew of Futaba, he was pretty sure she’d never been to Takemi’s clinic, so she would never have had the chance to bug it.

“Oh, shoot!” she said.  "I wanted to wait until you went to Hawaii for the surprise reveal, but surprise is gone now.  I kind of fiddled with your phone a little while we were at the beach.  Now you’re under the Oracle’s protection wherever you go!  Ta-da!“  She flung up her hands while giving him an impish smirk.  She blinked a few times as she finally took a good look at him.  "Wow, you  _are_  big.”

“…Yeah, I know.”  Since he wasn’t 100% sure the bed would hold both Futaba and his new girth, he decided to plop down on the old couch instead, plucking at his shirt to pull it down over his stomach again.  "The others aren’t coming for an hour still, just so you know.“

"I wanted to get here ahead of time,” she said, turning her attention back to her laptop.  "You want to go after whoever’s responsible for the milkshake at Big Bang Burger, right?  I’ve been going through the personnel directory of Okumura Foods.  I figured I’d start with the top executives and their food research and development department.  Feed every name into the Metanav.  Every name that’s a hit is marked down and noted for if they’re in Mementos or have a Palace of their own.“  She turned the laptop around to show him–there was already a list of at least twenty names.  "Shady people are kind of dime a dozen at big corporations, unfortunately.  Something I learned in my Medjed days.  But I can pick out any trail they’ve left online, and if that doesn’t lead us anywhere, there are the shadows in Mementos.  I’m sure we can narrow it down to the people responsible.”

“Wait, so you’re just giving the Metanav every name you see?” Morgana asked incredulously.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Akira said.  He’d been a little taken aback by the method she’d described himself–-up until now they’d had reason to suspect every person before they entered their name into the Metanav (at least, of the people they'd entered on purpose)–-but he didn’t see any real issue.  The Metanav would filter out anyone who wasn’t distorted, leaving only people who had a warped cognition.  "Nice work, Oracle.“  They needed to have a talk about privacy at some point, but after Sojiro’s brushoffs and Takemi’s refusal to help the way Akira would have liked, Futaba’s proactiveness was welcome.  She might be a bit of a gremlin at times, like when she’d been blackmailing the team as Alibaba before they figured out the true nature of her request and her identity, but she could turn her impish tendencies to good when she wanted to.  "Anything I can do to help?”

Futaba chuckled, pushing her glasses up her nose.  "Not right now.  At this stage, just leave it all to me!  Though, I wanna see you play one of your games.  They’re  _so_  retro.  I can’t believe you have that old system!“

"Won’t that distract you?”

“That’s why you’re playing, not me. I can multitask watching and scrounging up names.  It’s not rocket science.”

Well, if it made her happy and kept her productive…plus, it’d be kind of nice to do something mindless after the weirdness of the examination and relax.  He moved to one of the chairs and started setting up the old game system, only pausing when his stomach growled.  Odd that he could be hungry after guzzling so much milkshake–then again, Takemi had said it was like he hadn’t actually eaten anything last night?  The whole…“milkshake to instant fat” thing was weird.  And he hadn’t eaten yet this morning.  He wasn’t particularly eager to see Sojiro again or go anywhere when they were having a meeting soon, so he settled for raiding the food snacks he had stashed in the desk, fishing out some Kit-Kats and potato chips.

“Akira…” Morgana said.  His tone was weary.

“She said to eat my normal diet.”

“Minus fast food.”

“It’s not fast food, it’s snack food.  And I’m hungry, so let me eat.”  Yeah, he probably did need to look into healthier food to keep around, just not right now.  At least Futaba didn’t comment as she clambered into the other chair, resuming her work on the laptop as soon as she’d sat.  It was probably mostly because she had no room to talk–her diet was even more unhealthy than his–but right now Akira appreciated how little fuss she was making about his weight.  Sitting next to each other made it very clear the tree trunk each of his thighs had become next to her twiggy legs, but she was absorbed in the task she’d made for herself and didn’t look up for anything except for catching some moments of the game.  She let Akira eat his Kit-Kat bar and tip back the potato chips into his mouth in peace.  If all his friends could be this laidback about it, he’d be happy.  They’d have a productive meeting and get started on the legwork of this whole Big Bang Burger issue.

Though, only thirty minutes before the meeting was to start, a ding on his phone signified a new message in the Phantom Thief chat.  Putting the game on pause, Akira picked up his phone to see:

 **Makoto:**   Sorry, I’m going to be late for the meeting.  Start without me.

That…was unusual for Makoto.

 **Akira:**   Is everything okay?

 **Makoto:**  Everything’s good!  It’s just that Eiko and I went out to lunch together and we’re running late.

 **Akira:**   How late do you think you’ll be?

There was a long pause before her response, considering how brief it was.

 **Makoto:**   I don’t know.  Really, don’t wait for me.

Futaba was leaning over Akira’s arm to read the messages now, frowning.  "Okay, I haven’t known you all for that long, so I could be wrong,“ she muttered, "but the vibe I got from Makoto was total Type A personality.  I mean, you guys call her  _Queen._ ”

“You’re not wrong,” Akira told her.

“In fact, you’re right on the money,” Morgana added.  He jumped onto Akira’s hunched back, peering over his shoulder to read for himself.  "What’s going on?“

 **Ann:**   Makoto?  Skipping a meeting for lunch?  What, did you meet the guy of your dreams there?

 **Makoto:**  No, Ann, nothing like that.

 **Makoto:**  Eiko was scolding me for not knowing the most popular restaurants for students.

 **Makoto:**  None of you told me Big Bang Burger was this good!

Akira groaned and dragged a hand over his face.  "Uh oh…” Morgana muttered.

“Ehehe…” Futaba chuckled nervously.  "That’s right, you didn’t say what the meeting was for in your message.“

"Yeah, that was a mistake.”

 **Akira:**  The meeting today is about BBB.  Makoto, if you’re drinking milkshake, stop immediately.  It’s drugged.

 **Makoto:**   Don’t be ridiculous.  Why would it be drugged?

 **Akira:**   I don’t know, that’s part of the investigation.  Stop drinking it and come here.

 **Akira:**  Please.

 **Akira:**  …

 **Ryuji:**   Uh…

 **Ann:**   Did she just…stop responding?

 **Akira:**  …All right.

 **Akira:**   Who’s going to volunteer to save our tactician from drugged milkshake?

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a [post](https://oodlezsinbin.tumblr.com/post/161507692239/i-had-this-dream-last-night-where-akira-got-a-job#notes) by @oodlezsinbin at tumblr of Akira working a job at BBB and having an interesting incident with a milkshake machine.
> 
> @basickinkartist did [both a sketched and colored picture](https://basickinkartist.tumblr.com/post/182753300636/the-big-bang-burger-blaster#notes) of Akira's 'development'.


End file.
